Poem A Day – Aug. 8, 2016
#MIDDLEBURY
We have no choice in the bodies that hold us
Holly Amos
Thing of dirt and water and oxygen marked by thinking
and reacting and a couch
one may or may not be permitted
to ... Continue Reading →
Poem A Day – Aug. 7, 2016
#MIDDLEBURY
Come Back to Tell Us
Matthew Thorburn
Dusk in August –
which means nearly
nine o’clock here, deep
in the heart of central
Jersey – and the deer
step out ... Continue Reading →
Poem A Day – Aug. 6, 2016
#MIDDLEBURY
When I Read the Book
Walt Whitman
When I read the book, the biography famous,
And is this then (said I) what the author calls a man’s life?
And so will some one when ... Continue Reading →
Poem A Day – Aug. 5, 2016
#MIDDLEBURY
The Calm
John Donne
Our storm is past, and that storm’s tyrannous rage,
A stupid calm, but nothing it, doth ‘suage.
The fable is inverted, and far more
A block ... Continue Reading →
Poem A Day – Aug. 4, 2016
#MIDDLEBURY
Clear
Joseph Massey
After eight days of rain
what isn’t overwritten
under sun. These
asphalt cracks
pushed further apart.
Eight days without
definition: gray walled
the ... Continue Reading →
Poem A Day – Aug. 3, 2016
#MIDDLEBURY
America Talks to Me Like a Mother
Catie Rosemurgy
Don’t worry. One kills in dreams
but wakes having not killed.
Having not killed is part of waking. Some mornings, ... Continue Reading →
Poem A Day – Aug. 2, 2016
#MIDDLEBURY
Walk On, Walk Away
Afaa Michael Weaver
Can we just stay here in the space where our loud laughing
won’t disturb the mausoleum of St. Peter, three times denying
the ... Continue Reading →
Poem A Day – Aug. 1, 2016
#MIDDLEBURY
The Black Woman’s Tears Swap Meet Is Open Every Day
Douglas Kearney
some black women are my friends & their tears seem the hems
of blue dresses. I ball un-ball
my ... Continue Reading →
Poem A Day – July 31, 2016
#MIDDLEBURY
The Telephone
Robert Frost
“When I was just as far as I could walk
From here to-day,
There was an hour
All still
When leaning with my head against a flower
I heard ... Continue Reading →
Poem A Day – July 30, 2016
#MIDDLEBURY
Modern Love
John Keats
And what is love? It is a doll dress’d up
For idleness to cosset, nurse, and dandle;
A thing of soft misnomers, so divine
That silly youth doth ... Continue Reading →
